


Could We Pretend That We're In Love?

by TheForgottenDreams



Series: I Said 'I Love You' [7]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Dancing, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Monologuing, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7102369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheForgottenDreams/pseuds/TheForgottenDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I thought we had a rule, we’re not allowed to think about work when we’re together.” Grantaire pouted again and it shouldn’t be that adorable, but it really, really was. </p>
<p>“Distract me.” Enjolras quirked an eyebrow, knowing the effect it had on the brunet. Grantaire had serenaded the blond with a song he made up on the spot about the almighty power of his left eyebrow, it had been impossibly charming to say the least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Could We Pretend That We're In Love?

Grantaire swayed to the music playing on the radio, the summer breeze filling the room, ruffling the sheets of the bed where Enjolras lay, watching, laughing as Grantaire sang along, voice filling the room and also revelling in the love conveyed through his words. The love he’d like to believe was real.

“Come back to bed.” Enjolras bit his bottom lip as Grantaire met his eyes, knowing it would drive the brunet insane. It seemed everything he did these days was calculated to get some reaction from Grantaire as tragic as that may be. 

“Come dance with me.” The brunet drawled, twirling in time to the music, making grabby hands in the blond’s direction. His bottom lips stuck out and he blinked his eyes like a puppy dog. Enjolras felt his resistance die at that look.

He danced over to Enjolras’ side, making the blond laugh, offering his hand which he took with a gentle eye-roll. The sheets fell off of him, revealing golden skin and red boxers, Grantaire in a similar state, only in his black shorts, pulled him close and moved them both backwards. 

Enjolras tripped over his own feet, causing Grantaire to laugh as he caught him, the blond looking up, cheeks enflamed and eyes hesitant. Their breath danced in the limited space between their faces and then they were kissing. Slow and sweet instead of burning and desperate as usual. Grantaire pulled back, resting his head on Enjolras’ shoulder as Enjolras did the same, hands caught in Grantaire’s messy curls, the brunette held him close, pressing them together tightly. They moved in time to the music breathing in sync, just holding each other and being close. 

Enjolras pushed his face into the crook of Grantaire’s neck, inhaling his smell, cigarettes, ink, something like oranges all blended together, created to drive him insane. He felt his lips spread into a smile against his will as a familiar feeling bubbled in his chest, right where his heart should be. 

He was comfortable like this, in the various hotel rooms Grantaire directed him to after asking if there was somewhere he could meet him. After their desperate need for each other subsided and they could relax, cuddling or dancing. He loved the hours they spent together, firing points back and forth, playful comments and unadulterated flirting, singing or reciting lines of songs and poems to each other. He loved spending time with Grantaire period. The man was funny and witty, intelligent but not arrogant about it, frequently leaving Enjolras speechless with his eloquence and elegance. He was loving and kind, seeming to know what Enjolras needed just by looking at him whether that was a hurried hook up or an afternoon or basking in each other’s affection.

When they were apart Enjolras longed for Grantaire’s voice, smoky and strong, guiding Enjolras to shore when he was lost on the waves of his thoughts, for his fingers, calloused from guitar but soft when against his own skin, the way their hands fit together perfectly, for the stubble that burnt his skin on contact, making his jaw and inner thighs red with rash. He couldn’t wait to see the odd eyes sparkling with mischief, the lopsided smirk that slid easily onto his unconventional face, transforming it into a beautiful riot. These moments, hidden away in hotel rooms, their phones off and lives truly their own, away from the prying eyes of the press or the nosy tendencies of their friends. He longed for the time he could spend being himself, being with Grantaire. 

But it was more than that. 

It was the way his breathing stopped temporarily when someone so much as said Grantaire’s name, the way his chest hurt when he hadn’t seen or called him for a whole day, the way his heart lurched every time he saw the brunet. The way his skin burnt when they touched or the wriggling in his stomach when he knew he would see him, the apprehension almost palpable as he tapped his foot, impatient. The way Grantaire was always on his mind, always in his thoughts. 

He hadn’t meant to fall in love with Grantaire, but the brunet wasn’t a hard person to fall in love with thus, Enjolras figured it had been inevitable and that he was royally fucked. 

He didn’t mind his feelings, he accepted them warmly, embrace them, enjoyed them, keeping it his own little secret. He enjoyed the warm flurry of spending time with Grantaire and the little jokes he could make at himself and his clichéd ways. That wasn’t what killed him. 

What kill him was the fact he couldn’t show any of his feelings because Grantaire was the one who proposed their arrangement, Grantaire was the one that acted like they were barely even friends in public, Grantaire who’d ridicule him and argue over twitter, who could destroy his world in a few words. It was Grantaire that made up excuses when Enjolras asked him on dates, who kept saying no to spending time together outside of the hotel rooms, Grantaire who wrote songs about girls and not Enjolras, Grantaire who still went off with his groupies, who flirted with everyone and made everyone feel special. It was Grantaire who kept them from getting closer.

Enjolras was fine with that – or at least that’s what he told himself. He was fine with their hotel meetings, fine with Grantaire picking fights with him in public, fine that he kept rejecting him, kept singing songs not about him, kept flirting with anything human shaped and breathing. He was fine with his feelings being one sided. At least in moments like this when he could tell himself it was enough. 

When they were apart it was harder. When Joly mentioned another snarky brunette Grantaire had gone off with, when he had to watch as Grantaire shamelessly flirted with every interviewer he had, when Grantaire would wink at him across a room, when he would stretch but because they were around the others, Enjolras couldn’t react. 

When Grantaire drank and spewed nonsense about his good looks or his voice. When he couldn’t keep Grantaire off his mind, couldn’t act like any of it bothered him, couldn’t listen to his music but also couldn’t listen to anything else. It was hard keeping it all a secret from his best friends, but he would do it because that’s what Grantaire clearly wanted. And he tried to pretend he was fine with it, but inside he was anything but.

“Enjolras?” Grantaire spoke, “Come back to me.”

“Huh?” The blond murmured. 

“I can hear you thinking from here.” Grantaire’s voice was gentle and Enjolras raised his head to look at him, praying his face didn’t give away his thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

“Just thinking about this new song Jehan’s writing.” He lied, smiling weakly at Grantaire. 

Maybe it was wrong to keep Grantaire in the dark about his feelings, under false pretences, but Enjolras could never voice exactly what he felt. Whenever he tried it ended up with him getting distracted by Grantaire’s eyes, or his hair, or his arms, or his laugh, then Enjolras’ half-written speech disappeared from his mind and they ended up falling into bed with each other. And, Enjolras didn’t think mid-climax was the best time to tell the brunet he had fallen in love with him. 

“I thought we had a rule, we’re not allowed to think about work when we’re together.” Grantaire pouted again and it shouldn’t be that adorable, but it really, really was. 

“Distract me.” Enjolras quirked an eyebrow, knowing the effect it had on the brunet. Grantaire had serenaded the blond with a song he made up on the spot about the almighty power of his left eyebrow, it had been impossibly charming to say the least. 

“We’re dancing isn’t that enough?” Grantaire asked, twirling Enjolras out, away from him.

“Apparently not.” The blond replied, spinning back in, slamming into Grantaire’s chest as the brunet tightened his grip, refusing to let go, making them move faster in a kind of mock-tango.

“We could go back to bed.” 

“Like I wanted originally.” Enjolras shot back, as Grantaire dipped him. 

“But you would’ve just gotten frustrated, you can’t sleep without doing something first.” 

“Who said I wanted to sleep?” Enjolras asked, snapping up a few centimetres from Grantaire’s face, smirking, enjoying as Grantaire’s eyes trailed the movement of his lips, darkening as they met Enjolras’ eyes again, “When I invite you to bed, ‘Taire, it’s not because I want to sleep.”

“Oh yeah?” Grantaire asked, raising his eyebrows with a stupid grin on his stupid face. Enjolras wanted to punch him, with his lips.

“Yeah, it’s for quite the opposite really.” The blond answered. 

“You’ll have to explain.” Grantaire blinked, ever playing devil’s advocate. But Enjolras found that captivating too, no one had ever been able to stand up to him as well as Grantaire did, he loved it, thrived on it. Having an opponent meant he could strengthen his arguments and he welcomed any opportunity to improve. And yes, it was frustrating at times but it was also hot as hell. 

“I could just demonstrate, but I would need an assistant.” Enjolras told him.

“I’m the only one here so I volunteer.” Grantaire grinned, dimples popping out. 

“Well, first we need a bed.” Enjolras laughed. Twirling away from the brunet, he caught his hand and lead him to the bed, pushing him down so his inky curls splayed out across the white sheets as he laid there, eyes locked on Enjolras. 

“And then?”

“No more talking.” Enjolras answered. 

He climbed onto the bed, knees either side of Grantaire’s hips, leaning forward to capture the brunet’s mouth in a smouldering kiss that lead to more trailing all over the brunet’s skin, Grantaire moaning and groaning at the contact. 

Enjolras had to ignore the look that could be love in the brunet’s odd eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> From 'Is There Somewhere' by Halsey. 
> 
> There's both a Hamilton and Finding Neverland reference in there at some point, sorry for that, thank you for reading, it really means a lot. 
> 
> I'm on tumblr as beelzebertha, thank you again.


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